


Hero Worship

by heyystiles



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Homelander Whump, Hurt/Comfort, I just wanted to explore what he might have been like as a young adult, Large crowds, Panic Attacks, Secret Identities, Sort of? - Freeform, This is not meant to elicit any ounce of sympathy for Homelander, also no beta because i’m laaazy, unhealthy thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyystiles/pseuds/heyystiles
Summary: What isreallove? The simple refusal to be cruel to one another? The willingness to open up to another human being? Unequivocal and undying loyalty?Or, a young Homelander learns that a secret identity, is one best kept toyourself.
Relationships: The Homelander | John & Jonah Vogelbaum
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Hero Worship

**Author's Note:**

> hey hi hello ! so, I don’t know where this came from.. but somewhere deep in the dark depths of my brain I guess I like to think that maybe at some point in homelander’s upbringing, there was hope that he might be a normal, functioning member of society some day, but that of course is quickly squashed the MOMENT he is granted even the tiniest morsel of fame, of adoration, of what HE thinks is love - or I guess if you want to simplify things, this is my take on why homelander gave up on his secret identity.
> 
> ALSO - i totally tried to do research on homelander’s backstory, but came up with like… nothing in regards to his early adulthood or when he officially became ‘homelander’ so this is 100% just me making things up as i go :’) that being said, anything you recognize does not belong to me but rather, amazon prime and dynamite entertainment!

The hat was _simple,_ unassuming - something the Homelander would never be caught _dead_ wearing - and the notion made the young man smile. The large, full length mirror the higher-ups at Vought had granted him was mostly intended to be a socialization aide - to allow John to practice how to _smile for the cameras_ or hold himself _just the right way_ to elicit that expected cool, calm, but _confident_ exterior.

Only now, it was serving a different purpose. It was a window to the outside world, _so to speak_ , showing him that a normal life _could_ be possible. 

He placed the baseball cap atop his head, paired with some plain, average-looking, dark framed glasses **_(_ ** the lenses only smooth, _prescriptionless_ glass **_)_ ** and couldn’t help but grin even bigger as the hat visibly shielded a majority of his familiar blonde locks - everything was _finally_ coming together.

He looked _nothing_ like himself.

Now felt like as good a time as any to put that theory to the test..

_Surely, the doctor would agree_ , John reassured himself as he made his way out of his bedroom and down the cold, grey corridor to the other man’s office.

Rounding the corner, he passed a cluster of Vought scientists, babbling to each other about some sort of _breakthrough_ , something John **could not care less about** \- but the one thing that stuck out to him was that the group _paid him absolutely no mind._

John’s gaze flicked back to the ground as the group disappeared down the adjacent hallway, trying his best to keep his excitement to himself - to more _professional_ standards.

Lost in a cloud of thought, John almost missed the door to the doctor’s office. Skidding to a stop, he took a few steps backwards, reaching up in a nervous gesture to adjust his fake glasses before addressing the man that currently sat at his desk a few feet away.

He cleared his throat, in a meager attempt at getting the man’s attention, and wise, but overworked eyes peered up at him from behind a manila file folder.

“I’m — I’m ready to go out.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

“ _As myself_ ,” John clarified, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

A beat of silence.

“No.”

_What?_

“But - **I’m ready** , Dr. Vogelbaum, _I swear to God_ —”

“Now John — would your mother be happy hearing you take the Lord’s name in vain like that? I don’t think so.”

Fists balled at his sides in frustration, John opened his mouth to retort, to remind Dr. Vogelbaum that _he didn’t have a mother,_ that she _abandoned him_ \- left him to be mistreated, _experimented on,_ ** _tortured_** by these- these _animals_ — but the higher ups at Vought _insisted_ on continuing this _farce,_ this _fabricated life_ _of his_ , and there was nothing John could do about it.

“But I _am_ ready,” he reiterated, as he moved to take a seat in front of the doctor, his tone coming across more like that of a stubborn child than the strong-willed _man_ John knew himself to be.

“You’re _eighteen,_ John - you’re practically still a child,” the doctor continued, refusing to look his charge in the face as he sifted through the boy’s file, “You need more time to prepare. _You’re not ready._ ”

Restless fingers continued to drum on the edge of the desk John sat uncomfortably close to before the tension finally _snapped,_ like a rubber band that had been pulled _just_ too tight.

“You don’t know **anything** about me,” John stood up abruptly, the chair clattering to the ground as he did so, eyes glowing crimson as he stared down the doctor, “The people out there — they _love_ Homelander. They know the _supe_ in the _blue fucking suit_ with the stars and _goddamn_ stripes on his back! **_Does this look like that to you?_ ** _”_ With a frantic wave of his hands, John gestured to his own dressed down appearance - his first real attempt at _civilian clothes._

His _secret identity._

Dr. Vogelbaum simply sighed, shaking his head as the light faded from John’s eyes and a familiar _tired,_ **_broken_ ** blue returned, “No. I’m sorry, son. _The world’s not ready for more of you just yet_.”

And if the boy’s jaw clenched a bit too hard at his remark, the doctor elected to ignore it.

&&&

**_One year later._ **

“Coffee for — _John?_ Black, two sugars?” the barista called out, and a perfectly normal head of blonde hair **_(_ ** tucked under a _perfectly normal_ baseball cap **_)_ ** snapped up in surprise. 

The man in question popped up from his table before awkwardly jogging up to the counter to receive his beverage. Stashing his wallet and cell phone in his back pocket, John accepted the coffee from the pimple-covered teenager behind the inconveniently placed sneeze-guard, and pretended not to notice how the boy’s gaze lingered on his face for _juuust_ a bit too long.

“Uh, thanks man - “ nodding at the teen, John turned to leave, to return to his grubby little table in the only remaining secluded corner of the coffee shop, but the barista suddenly stopped him.

“Hey, _wait mister!_ ”

John’s blood ran cold. **_SHIT._ ** _Oh, you’re_ **_so_ ** _fucked._

“Aren’t you that guy —”

**_SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT._ ** _Yep,_ **_royally_ ** _fucked._

“— from that commercial?”

Every tense muscle in John’s body relaxed all at once. Spinning around immediately, a _subdued_ but camera-ready grin plastered to his surprised but _relieved_ face, John shook his head, “Ah, no. _Sorry._ Guess I’ve just got one of those faces.”

He could almost see Dr. Vogelbaum staring at him from over the barista’s shoulder, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Thanks for the coffee though! Tastes _great,”_ John took a sip without thinking, _ignoring_ how the scorching hot liquid almost _melted_ his tongue; but the barista simply shrugged, brows furrowing in bewilderment as he resumed his job of calling out orders and mopping up the various flavored syrups splattered across the dirty linoleum.

_That — was a_ **_close fucking call._ **

Instead of returning to the table to sit however, John decided the best move would be to call it quits for the evening.

Recharge, _recoup,_ try again tomorrow. Besides, _today wasn’t a total failure._

That meant Dr. Vogelbaum was _wrong._ That meant it was **working —** that this _stupid fucking hat_ and these plain, unassuming clothes would be his key to a normal life.

To a life someday _free of Vought._


End file.
